


Probably, Maybe

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Creeper Derek, Daddy Derek, Erica is awesome and thinks her dad is kinda dumb sometimes, Fluff, Kid Fic, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, No Hale Fire, Oblivious Derek, Oblivious Stiles, POV Alternating, Teacher Stiles, they're so painfully oblivious it's stupid
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-01-13 04:02:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1211956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erica crushes on Mr. Stiles, her 4th grade teacher. Stiles crushes on her smokin’ hot dad. It’s probably a little complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> LET IT BE KNOWN THAT I AM REALLY TERRIBLE AT SUMMARIES  
> and I almost titled this "Erica's Dad Has Got It Going On" pfft 
> 
> Some general notes:  
> -not sure how many chapters this will be, I'm guessing about 5 right now  
> -rating _may_ change later on  
>  -I'll also add more side characters/pairings to the tags as I figure things out  
> -If there're any tags you feel I should add (now or later), let me know  
> -tenses change at some points bc memoriesssss  
> -POV changes chapter to chapter
> 
> This is unbeta'd so apologies for any blatant mistakes!

Stiles sits slouched over his desk, grading his students’ current events reports and fiddling with the red ballpoint pen between his fingers when the classroom door opens and tiny footsteps make their way towards him.

“Mr. S?”

Stiles looks up, thick-rimmed glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose ever so slightly, to find Erica Hale standing in front of his desk. She looks up at him, eyes wide with that glint of mischievousness she gets when she has something to confess. Her golden tresses are in disarray, tiny twigs and leaves scattered throughout her curls. Her pink, collared shirt is wrinkled and there’s a hint of dirt along the front and across the right shoulder, evidence of her usual recess antics.  She bites on her bottom lip and rocks back and forth on her heels.

“Yes, Erica?” he responds pleasantly, setting his pen down and fixing his glasses. He clasps his hands together on his desk and leans forward to show her his full attention. “Aren’t you supposed to be at recess? You have a good ten minutes left.”

She fidgets in place, tiny smirk forming on her chapped lips. “I know! But I wanted to give you this!”

The tiny fourth grader digs into the pocket of her blue jeans (also covered in dirt, _and_ grass stains, Stiles notes) and pulls out a nearly withered flower bracelet. “I made this for you during recess! Stick out your arm!” she exclaims eagerly.

Stiles smiles and does as he’s told, folding up the cuff of his dark-blue button down so that Erica can reach over and thread his hand through the bracelet.

“It’s a perfect fit!” he says as he rotates his wrist back and forth, admiring the piece. It really is nicely made, a little browned and crushed perhaps (likely because it was crammed in her pocket), but each plucked flower is the same length as the other and artfully tied, the end of each stem tied underneath its neighboring bud

“They’re called white clovers! _Daddy_ says they’re weeds, but, like, the good and pretty kind.”

Stiles smiles warmly. “I think they’re very pretty, too. Thank you, Erica. I love it!”

Erica shuffles in her spot a bit, her cheeks flushed in a deep pink. “Good. You’re welcome!” she proclaims suddenly, beaming up at him in a crooked smile filled with gaps, before running back outside giggling.

Stiles settles back in his chair, smiling and shaking his head fondly. Erica is, admittedly, one of his favorite students— bright eyed, friendly, and always eager to learn. She can be a bit too talkative at times, always whispering to Little Vernon in the back of the classroom, but Stiles can’t fault her on that; he was the same way (or rather, a _lot_ worse) when he was a kid, after all. She’s so much like Stiles was at that age that he can’t help but be especially fond of her.

She’s out sick quite often, but whenever she’s in class, Erica is very energetic and loves to play kickball and get dirty during break time. She’s snarky but never unkind to her peers or disrespectful to teachers. She always asks questions, eagerly raising her hand, but not in a brown-nosing kind of way—Stiles can sense the genuine curiosity in Erica. She loves reading fiction and her favorite animal is the wolf. She likes comic book superheroes, especially Wonder Woman and Batman.

She also probably has a little, teeny-tiny bit of a crush on Stiles.

It isn’t the first time Erica has given Stiles something like the flower bracelet, and she gets particularly shy around him, so he’s pretty sure he’s right. That in itself is nothing new or worrisome for Stiles— kids get little, petty crushes on their teachers now and then—but this particular case is a little complicated because Stiles probably has a little, teeny-tiny bit of a crush on Erica’s _father_.

Erica’s _well-built, drop-dead-gorgeous_ father, with his perfectly fitted shirts that show off the beautiful muscles of his arms and expanse of his chest; the indescribable mix of hues in his eyes accentuated by thick lashes and expressive eyebrows;  manly stubble that Stiles would just love to rub his face against and risk stubble burn over.

Granted, he’s only _officially_ met the man in person, like, _twice_ , but the man left a lasting impression on him. A really lasting impression, enough that Stiles has stayed up late on more than one occasion thinking about Mr. Derek Hale and making up impossible, romantic (sometimes sexy) scenarios in his head, but the man is just _that_ gorgeous, okay? 

The bell signaling the end of recess rings, breaking Stiles out of his train of thought. He hears the chattering voices of his kids as they line up outside his classroom and rubs his hand down his face. _Now is definitely not the time to be thinking about the object of his fantasies,_ he thinks.

At the door, he greets his kids with enthusiasm and lets them start filing into the classroom, reprimanding Greenburg for blatantly wiping his nose and rubbing his snot on Heather’s jumper. It’s January, so several of the kids are sniffling and rubbing their little hands on their reddened and dripping noses.

“Okay, guys, make sure to wash your hands or use the hand sanitizer. And for the love of Batman, use tissues!”

That garners him a few giggles and someone (probably Jackson, the little tyrant) whispers loudly, “Yeah, _Greenbooger_!”

Several kids snicker, and Stiles is about to scold him when Erica steps in.

“No name-calling, Jackson!” Erica snaps.  Stiles is a little proud of her.

“Shut up, Erica, I didn’t say _anything_ ,” Jackson hisses.

“Yeah, and I’m a ten-foot purple people eater,” the girl retorts, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes.

“Well, you’re _ugly_ enough.”

“Okay, that is _enough_ ,” Stiles interjects, “no name calling from anyone in this classroom. We’re all friends here, okay? Jackson, apologize to Greenburg and Erica.”

“Fine. Sorry,” Jackson says sulkily.

Erica huffs and goes to her seat. Greenburg looks like Jackson’s apology is the coming of Jesus or something. Poor kid.

Once all the kids are seated, Stiles takes his place at the front of the room, leaning against his desk and crossing his legs at the ankle.

“Alright, guys, pull out your books and we’ll do popcorn reading,” he says, reaching for his own copy of _Where the Red Fern Grows_ in the pile of books on his desk. “We’re on chapter 4. I’ll start first, then…” he trails off as he looks around the room, spotting Jackson turned around in his seat and sticking his tongue out at Erica. “ _Jackson_ , you, can go next.”

Jackson groans from his seat and Stiles resists smirking.

\---

The first time Stiles met Erica’s dad was in September at Back to School Night. Stiles was greeting parents by the door and when Mr. Hale approached it was like the heavens had opened up and angels sang as this god-like man came closer.  He was the literal embodiment of everything Stiles found physically attractive in a man. He was tall and broad shouldered, dressed in a blue-grey dress shirt (the top two buttons left open in such a tantalizing way that made Stiles take a sharp intake of breath) and dark, pleated pants, carefully pressed and fitted to the tee. His dark hair was cropped shorter at the sides than the top, the tufts of which swept back softly. His presence was intense and his features sharp, but beautiful _,_ and more striking than intimidating. Stiles had likely _gaped_ at the man; he wouldn't put it past himself to be downright blatant about it. He was anything but subtle when it came to people he found attractive, a trait that didn't always bode well with the person in question.

When Stiles gathered his composure, he welcomed the other man, offering his hand out in greeting, hoping to salvage the man’s impression of him and at least _attempt_ to be charming. Instead of taking his hand immediately, though, the guy downright _glared_ at him. Stiles’ heart leapt and dropped at the same time; it was the most confusing feeling Stiles had ever felt. The man seemed to grimace at the very sight of Stiles, but after an uncomfortable pause, he took the teacher’s hand shook it firmly. Stiles reveled in the size and warmth of the man’s hands and felt as if they branded his own.

“I’m Erica’s dad,” was all the man provided, voice low and steady, sending a quick shiver through Stiles. He let go of his hand, leaving Stiles’ hanging in midair, and they both stood there for a bit, Derek’s mouth forming a tighter line and his brow furrowing deeper and deeper with each passing second. God, he looked so uncomfortable but Stiles’ brain was just _not_ cooperating. It wasn't until Derek excused himself with a sharp nod and went in to join the other parents that Stiles curled the fingers of his still outstretched hand as he brought it back down to his side, closing his eyes and groaning to himself as the realization of just how awkward he’d mad that hit him.

Being stuck for twenty minutes in his tiny classroom with a group of parents while going through his whole what-your-students-will-be-learning-this-year spiel was bad enough; feeling daggers being shot his way from Mr. Hale’s direction, was _torture_. Still, he couldn’t help glancing over at the man more frequently than was likely appropriate. He felt absolutely spellbound by the handsome father and hoped none of the other parents noticed. He’s pretty sure he’d been a blubbering mess the entire night.

The next time he met Mr. Hale was the moment when mere physical attraction transitioned into a full blown crush. It was November, at parent-teacher conferences and Stiles was equal parts terrified and excited to see the man of his dreams again. Terrified because it was _certain_ that the man hated him, and he wasn't entirely confident he could change that in one meeting. As it was, people who disliked Stiles at first rarely had a change of heart later on.

Parent-teacher conferences also meant one-on-one interaction (and, oh, how he wished for one-on-one to be literal with Mr. Hale) and he was hoping to make a better impression on the guy this time, and, as a bonus, he’d also have more time and proximity to catalogue Mr. Hale’s features, which was totally a viable, not-creepy reason to be excited.

Mr. Hale’s turn was close to last and came after the Whittemore’s. The meeting with Jackson’s parents hadn’t been all that pleasant, so Stiles was already a little frazzled by the time the perfection that was Mr. Hale walked in, looking just as handsome and well-dressed as before. Stiles did his best not to make what felt like the air being sucked out of his lungs obvious. Erica’s father entered with what Stiles could only interpret as caution so Stiles rose from his seat to greet him with his warmest smile.

“Welcome Mr. Hale,” he said, beaming and trying his utmost to keep his voice from rising to embarrassing levels.

“Uh, Derek is fine,” Mr. Hale replied gruffly, shaking his hand.

“Excuse me?” Stiles asked as he re-took his seat.

“Derek. My, uh, name.”

Stiles looked up at Mr. Hale—Derek—who looked so uncomfortable, it was endearing. It did strange things to Stiles’ heart.

“Oh, okay then, Derek,” Stiles said, fighting the goofy smile that was just threatening to spread on his face. “Um, in that case, just call me Stiles. Take a seat and we can talk about Erica.”

“Sure… Stiles,” Derek answered, corners of his lips quirking up in a barely-there smile. Stiles loved the sound of his name coming from Derek’s lips and counted the attempted smile as a win.

The meeting had gone well, definitely an improvement to the awkward mess that Back to School Night had been. It was formal, but pleasant. Derek would have that little almost-smile whenever Stiles praised Erica. He’d get nod seriously whenever Stiles pointed out areas she could improve on, and asked questions about what he could do at home to help her, especially whenever she’d have to be out sick. It made his heart swell at how proud and dedicated a father Derek was. Their eyes met several times during their conversation, and each time made Stiles’ heart flutter as he fought the urge to just throw himself across the desk and into Derek’s arms. At the end of the meeting, Stiles had fumbled as he got up, knocking over the mug of pencils he kept on his desk and Derek had laughed softly, smiling widely and looking up at Stiles briefly as he helped him gather the utensils. Their fingers brushed lightly at one point and Stiles was absolutely gone.

Since then, Stiles has not met Derek again, but occasionally he sees him around town alone or with Erica, never having the balls to actually approach him. Usually he’ll run into the nearest shop or hide behind a mailbox and watch Derek from afar. He’s probably a bit of a creep; his dad would be ashamed.

He can’t help himself, though; he’s so drawn to Derek’s everything, like a magnetic pull between them. When he’s walking hand-in-hand with Erica, Derek looks so happy and at ease, smiling sweetly as his little girl talks up at him animatedly. It’s literally the most charming thing Stiles has ever witnessed. Not that he doesn’t like Scowly Derek. Actually, he really likes Scowly Derek. Scowly Derek is kind of _really_ sexy, which probably makes Stiles some kind of masochist but he’s learned to live with himself.

Nevertheless, the feeling of serenity that surrounds Derek when he’s with his daughter has Stiles irrevocably smitten and he finds that he’d do anything for Derek to be that way around him, too. Still, Erica continues giving him little gifts and smiling shyly at him at school, and each time Stiles feels a crippling guilt in the pit of his stomach. He resolves that he would never do anything to cause a rift between father and daughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [tumblr](http://boy--miilk.tumblr.com), where I don't do any writing (yet??) but come say hi if you want!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was supposed to be up sooner since half of it was already written but alas, school has started and that'll be taking up a lot of time. I'll do my very best to keep updating, though! 
> 
> Here we have Derek’s POV! This chapter backtracks a little. Hope it’s not too confusing! 
> 
> I’ve also added more couples & characters into the tags that will appear in this fic so you know what to expect; couples based on my current favorites U vU More later since I don't really plan my writing out much ha haha (this is probably _not_ the optimum way to do things.)
> 
> Again, no beta, so any mistakes or inconsistencies fall solely on me!

He’s the most beautiful man Derek has ever laid eyes on.

At age 34, Derek Hale, single father to one Erica Hale, has fallen, for the first time in his entire life, in love at first sight.

With his daughter’s teacher.

He’s never believed in such things as “love at first sight” or “fate”, unlike his sister, Laura, the romantic. Laura always says things like “you’ll just _know_ when you see them”, and, sure, that’s how it worked out for her and her husband, but Derek’s always felt they were a special, rare sort of case. He never expected such a thing for himself. His parents hadn’t fallen for each other instantly and they were definitely “meant to be”. But, there it was—that _instant_ moment. It wasn’t just attraction at first sight, either, there was just _something_ about the teacher that drew him in right away, made him want to know him in every way possible. 

Since Back to School Night at Erica’s school, Derek’s been in a bit of a crisis. As far as first impressions go, he is absolutely sure he’s failed already. The instant he’d seen the teacher at the door, he felt the air leave his lungs, his heart skip a beat, and the familiar fluttering of newfound _feelings_ in his stomach. He watched as the grade-school teacher greeted the other parents with an ease and charm that could only be genuine, his smile wide and inviting. He wore a maroon button down rolled up to his elbows, making the muscles of his forearms evident as he shook each parent’s hand, and fitted khakis over the long expanse of his legs. As he approached closer, Derek noticed the beautiful array of moles and freckles, placed in the most alluring way across his fair skin, and the sweet upturn of his nose. He was exquisitely beautiful, Derek thought.

The nerves were instant and unrelenting, and when Derek gets nervous he _glowers_ , and if the teacher’s dumbstruck expression upon seeing Derek was anything to go by, he’s positive he looked _pissed_ , which he absolutely was _not_. He couldn’t even form proper words as he shook the man’s hand (which was surprisingly big and warm and Derek still feels the ghost of them in his own if he thinks about it), and just ended up excusing himself awkwardly and rushing into the safety of the crowd of fellow parents.

Derek could not, for the life of him, tear his eyes away from the young teacher. He hardly paid attention to what he was saying, instead focusing on capturing the man’s image in his mind and being mesmerized by the graceful and expressive way his arms moved as he explained things. He was young, but the manner in which he engaged the classroom of parents made it obvious that he was an excellent educator.

Parent Teacher Conference had been a little better, since Derek _knew_ what to expect (still hit him in the chest like a ton of gold bricks, though, because the man was wearing _glasses, goddammit_ ) and was a little more aware of what his face was doing. He’d tried his best to keep his face more relaxed, but he’s pretty sure the scowl made several comebacks throughout the meeting. Still, he got Mr. S to call him by his name, and got his name in return— _Stiles_. Which was just perfect; different, but perfect. It fit him.

Derek was pleased to find how much Stiles really cared for his students, not only praising Erica’s accomplishments, but also showing genuine concern for areas she had trouble in. In previous years, Erica’s teachers would bring up her “uncouth” behavior and called her a “distraction for the other students” more than anything. Not Stiles. Stiles seemed to understand how Erica functioned and how to hone in on that and nurture it into productivity. He’d also indirectly praised Derek’s parenting, saying that her “excellent ethics must reflect her upbringing”. Derek preened a little at that; raising a child alone after her mother decided raising a child was “too much work” and left without so much as a goodbye had been difficult. He had his sisters to help, of course, and sometimes his parents and Uncle Peter when they visited, but it was still very trying on Derek. He always feared failing and ruining Erica. He _still_ does, but Stiles’ words helped alleviate a lot of that worry.

While they were finishing up the meeting, Stiles somehow managed to knock over one of his mugs of pens, which should _not_ be cute, but the way he blushed and flustered, well, Derek couldn’t help smiling at that. He helped him pick up the pens, relishing in the tiny moment their fingers made contact. It sends a thrill through him whenever he remembers it, thinking about how those long, beautiful fingers would feel intertwined with his or running along the planes of his body.

\---

Derek has probably always suffered from Scowl Syndrome (as his sisters call it), but growing up with both Laura and Cora will do that to a person. It’s really quite sad, he almost feels sorry for himself. It hasn’t been the easiest thing to deal with; people always interpret it the wrong way and think he’s mad at them (which, sometimes he is, but that’s beside the point). He doesn’t have many close friends because of it, but he can’t complain about that, he prefers it that way. It’s also part of the reason Derek opted for working from home ever since Erica was a toddler so he hasn’t really worried about dealing with many people for years anyway.

Oh, but, boy is he worried _now_.

He’s worried about what Stiles might think of him, _if_ he even thinks _anything_ of him. He’s not sure if he’d rather have _no opinion_ or a _bad opinion_. At least the latter is _something_ ; something to work with, he thinks morosely. He doesn’t want his god-forsaken face, of all things, to be the end to something that never even started.

Thing is, he doesn’t know where to go from there. He hasn’t seriously dated since before Erica was born. He’s never been a social butterfly like the rest of his family. He over-thinks and can’t carry conversations easily which ends up making others uncomfortable or bored. He’s well aware of his looks, sure, but when it comes to his personality, he’s pretty insecure. The few dates he’s been on in his life were usually initiated by the other person purely based on physical attraction towards him, or were set up by busybody relatives. Once they tried peeling away at the surface, though, they became a lot less interested. Opening up just doesn’t come naturally to Derek.

Stiles seems to be the complete opposite of Derek—self-confident and sociable—so he’s really not confident in himself to appeal to Stiles. He’s not sure how to even go about it. He _wants_ to, though. He wants to approach Stiles, get to know him, let him get to know Derek in return. He wants to learn the little quirks and pet peeves. Wants to know how Stiles takes his coffee; whether he prefers morning or nighttime showers; his fears and dreams. Everything, from the most mundane to the most important things—he wants to share it all with Stiles. He’s never in his life felt this strongly about another person, not even with Erica’s mother, whom he’d (mistakenly) thought he’d spend the rest of his life with. Wanting Stiles is the only thing he’s been sure about in a very long time, and dammit if he’s not going to at least try. The only question is _how_?

\---

Derek sees Stiles around town now and then but never dares call out to him because he’s sure he’ll fuck things up again. He does creep a little, though, watching as Stiles laughs without restraint whenever he’s with friends (none of which he hopes Stiles is dating), the beautiful length of his neck on display as he throws his head back. His movements are open and effortless, carefree energy pulling Derek towards him (figuratively speaking, of course; Derek keeps a safe distance at all times).

 Some early weekend mornings he’ll see Stiles sitting alone at the counter along the window at the local café, reading peacefully as he drinks his coffee. Derek finds himself enchanted by how elegantly his long fingers hold the book and turn the pages or wrap around the coffee mug. In those moments, Derek imagines waking up to Stiles doing the same exact thing in Derek’s kitchen or simply laying with him in bed, both engrossed in their own books, legs tangled together in the evening. It’s these fantasies that confirm just how besotted he is with the young man.

\---

Derek is walking back from the market on a Saturday with Erica, when she suddenly stops and tugs at his arm. He looks at her questioningly, but she isn’t looking back at him. He follows her line of vision which leads him to Stiles. He swallows thickly, his heart stammering. Stiles is sitting in the outdoor patio of a small restaurant, talking animatedly with a tanned guy with short, wavy hair and a pretty Asian girl. He feels his stomach drop when he sees how familiar Stiles and the other man are, leaning into each other and bumping heads, the other wrapping an arm around Stiles’ shoulder. Then he notices Stiles’ companions are holding hands on the table, ring on the girl’s left hand, and he lets out a sigh of relief.

“Dad, let’s go say hello!” his daughter says gleefully, bouncing up and down.

Derek is almost tempted to say yes—Erica would make a good excuse to approach Stiles—but chickens out and instead says, “Erica, it’s his day off, and he’s with his friends. You’ll see him on Monday.”

Erica pouts, tucking her free hand under her armpit in an attempt to cross her arms, her other hand trapped in her dad’s. “But I’m Mr. S’s _favorite_ ,” she huffs.

Which is what gets the wheels in Derek’s head turning _. He’ll win Stiles over through Erica_. Have her charm him and put in good words for him. Which is probably wrong, _so_ wrong, but Derek is hopelessly head over heels for the teacher, and wrong is the best bet he has.

“Erica.”

“Hmm?”

“I need to ask you for a favor.”

He looks down at his daughter, who looks up at him, a single brow rising up in question—a quirk she definitely learned from one (or both) of his sisters. Derek was probably reaching a new low, asking his 10 year old daughter to basically be his wingman, but… well, he’s desperate, really.

\---

“You’re pathetic,” Cora says to Derek at the door as soon as they arrive at her apartment. The Hale siblings have lunch together at one of their homes every Saturday, and today is Cora’s turn.

“What?”

“I texted her while we were in the car,” Erica says.

Derek groans. Kids these days and technology.

“ _Very_ pathetic, Derek,” Laura yells from the kitchen.

Derek rolls his eyes. “Can you just let us in? And what exactly did _this_ _one_ ,” Derek says, putting his hand on top of Erica’s head,” tell you?”

Cora steps aside to let them in, bending down to hug Erica.

“Her text says, and I quote,” Laura supplies, because of _course_ Cora forwarded the text to her, “ _’Dad wants me to help him woo my teacher, he’s in looooooooooove with him’_.”

“Erica!”

“But it’s _true_!”

“That’s not… I’m not…. You didn’t have to tell Cora!”

“I tell Aunt Cora everything,” Erica remarks innocently.

“Yeah, Derek, Erica and I are BFFs, you should have expected this.”

And it’s true. He should have.

“My favorite thing about this is he’s not denying it,” Laura provides helpfully.

“He’s really not,” Cora replies, raising a hand to her cheek and shaking her head as if Derek is the most pitiful thing she’s ever encountered.

Derek throws himself into the comfy armchair in the corner, crossing his arms and huffing. He’s powerless against the women in his family, especially when they gang up on him.

“Shut up.”

“Aww, DerDer is so cute when he has a cwush,” Cora coos.

“I think it’s awesome! Mr. S is awesome,” Erica says matter-of-factly, sitting on the couch.

“Oooh, Erica, do tell,” Laura says, coming into the living room and sitting next to her niece.

“He’s really nice and funny and he likes Batman, too!”

Derek gets up to grab a beer, unwilling to hear any more of the gossip at his expense. He’s regretting all this already. He stays in the kitchen, idling around; checking on the pasta Cora has cooking and turning off the heat. When he comes back, Erica is telling them about the time Mr. S taught them about wolves because he found out they were Erica’s favorite.

“That’s so sweet of him,” says Laura, sending Derek a look and smirking.

“Your pasta is ready,” he deadpans.

“Aw, c’mon, Der, if you don’t want us to gossip, tell us these things yourself.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“You meddle, which makes my life miserable.”

“We’re going to meddle anyway.”

Derek grumbles, taking a long sip of his beer. He really regrets getting _any_ of them involved, but now that it’s out in the open, he may as well take advantage of his sister’s advice. He hates to admit it, but their advice is usually pretty good. He just tends to avoid asking for any because of how insufferable they can be.

He sighs in resignation, settling back down into the armchair and focusing on the label on the bottle in his hand. “I just… I don’t know? I’m… he’s just so…”

“Awesome?”

“Yeah.”

“And you really like him?”

“Yeah.”

“Then what’s the problem? Why do you, a grown ass man, need your child to help you woo another man?” Cora asks bluntly.

Derek grimaces, looking up at them. “You know how I am. I’m not… it’s hard for me to engage people or let them in. Stiles is so different from me. There’s no way he’d go for someone like me.”

“You don’t _know_ that.”

“I know I don’t, but that’s been how it is with everyone in the past.”

“Derek, the difference here is that this is someone _you_ are interested in in the first place. I don’t remember the last time you’ve actually liked someone, honestly. Don’t compare this to all the other people you’ve gone out with.”

“Yeah, Der and the fact that you’re being proactive about this, about getting to know another person _willingly_ , is pretty huge for you! This could be great for you, just trust yourself.”

Derek wants to hug them, because his sisters may be annoying, but when they get serious and actually helpful, they’re pretty great.

“Alright, so I guess starting off with Erica will be good, if it’ll help you feel more confident to approach him later on. She seems on board already anyway,” Laura says, tapping her finger on her chin.

“Yep!” Erica pipes up.

“Just be as cute and sweet as you can be. Not that you’re _not_ already, but just butter it up. And throw in nice things about your dad, not to obvious, though! Give him flowers or something, too,” Laura continues. “We’ll go from there, I suppose. But Derek, have a little more confidence in yourself. You’re seriously a great guy, and I’m not just saying that as your sister. I mean it.”

Derek shrugs, tips of his ears going pink, and he smiles tiredly at his sister. It’s hard for him sometimes, to accept compliments like that, even if they’re from family. But he’ll try to work beyond his insecurities and outside his comfort zone, for Stiles. Something in his heart tells him that Stiles is worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Insecure Derek. :(( Sorry. 
> 
> Also, yes, Erica’s mom is Kate… however I don't plan on giving her an appearance or making her a conflict. But if you have any thoughts on this or anything let me know!
> 
> 2 more episodes leftttttt mygod what the hell  
> is gonna happen /lays on floor in agony


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m literally the worst updater but school happens and life happens and writer’s block happens so yeah. Sorry! 
> 
> Unbeta’d as usual so any mistakes or continuity errors are all me.
> 
> There’s some texting this chapter, hopefully that part makes sense.

 “ _So,_ Stiles…” Kira says, once Stiles and Scott have calmed down from their fit of laughter, resting her chin on her fist and smiling sweetly at Stiles across the restaurant table. “I hear you met someone?”

Stiles looks up suddenly, cheeks flushing and mouth open dramatically around the straw of his iced tea, eyes wide and cheeks reddening. He whips his head around to glare at his big-mouthed best friend.

“Dude!”

“What!”

“Don’t go telling people my things!”

“She’s not _people_! She’s my wife! We’re _married_. ”

Stiles pouts. “Scott, _we’re_ basically married, too, that is not fair. I am hurt. ”

“It’s not like your _things_ are very secret anyway,” Scott says, ignoring his friend’s plight and grinning with that boyish charm of his that makes it impossible for most people to be offended or at him in any given situation. He knows Stiles isn’t actually put off by the thought that he might’ve told Kira anything, just attempting to deflect. “Also, _I_ didn’t tell her.”

“It’s true,” Kira pipes in, giggling at the two boys. “Don’t worry, Scott didn’t break any bro-codes or whatever, I swear. Lydia told me actually, like, a week ago. Says you’ve been… _pining_.” The ‘ _again’_ goes unsaid, but it’s implied.

“What… How does _she_ even know! What.“

“Dude, Lydia knows _everything,_ always.”

“True. I’m surprised she didn’t find out sooner, and even more surprised she hasn’t brought it up.”

“ _Yet_.”

Stiles grimaces at that. He is so not looking forward to facing Lydia, who will no doubt make him pay for not informing her of his not-really-a-love-life love life.

“Well…?” Kira urges, leaning forward Stiles with that sweet, open-mouthed smile of hers, eyes sparkling in absolute interest.

“Uh, yeah,” Stiles begins, fiddling with his straw and staring down at his drink shyly. “He’s this guy…  I, uh, met at work…”

“Ooh, a new teacher? The principal?”

Stiles smirks and looks up at his friends. “Nope! Uh… A parent, actually.”

“Oh, shit, is he married?” Kira asks in genuine concern.

“No, he’s a single dad… though, not sure if he’s _single_ single… Ugh, why are hot single dads even allowed?” Stiles sighs, slumping back in his chair.

Kira smiles wickedly. “How hot?”

Stiles chuckles. “Really hot, like, _really, really hot. So hot it physically pains me._ But also really sweet? Like… god, you should see him with Erica… He’s such a great dad. My heart can’t handle _that much hot dad!_ ”

Kira nods in understanding. “I feel you. Hot dads are the worst. This town is plagued by them.”

“Wait, _whose_ dad is hot?” Scott butts in, gaping at his wife. “It’s not Allison’s dad is it? Or Stiles’?”

“Dude, my dad is not ‘ _hot’_ ,” Stiles exclaims, emphasizing the term ‘hot’ with finger quotes as his face contorts into a grim expression. “ _Handsome_ , maybe, because we Stilinski men are known for our handsome-ness and charm. Maybe she means _your_ dad.”

“Dude, gross,” Scott retorts, mouth twisting in distaste.

Kira rolls her eyes. “Maybe I mean all of the above, because Beacon Hills has an abnormal amount of _objectively_ ‘hot dads’,” she says, borrowing Stiles’ use of finger quotes. “In case you didn’t notice. Which obviously you _both_ did, since you were both able to come up with _prime_ examples,” she finishes smugly.

Scott and Stiles look at each other in mutual mortification and make a silent pact to never mention listing each others’ dads under any form of ‘hot’ again. Ever. Like, _it never happened_. Nope.

“Moving on… So, Stiles, why haven’t you made a move on the guy?”

Stiles groans as he’s brought back to the cruel reality that is his life. “Well, first of all, he’s the parent of one of my kids… Pretty sure there’s a rule about dating one of your student’s parents or something. It’s at the very least frowned upon. Probably.”

“Okay, secondly?”

“Secondly, I’m pretty sure he hates me? You should see the way he glared at me. It was intense, like, he has these _super_ judge-y eyebrows, that are, by the way, perfect and attractive, _for eyebrows_ , but super judge-y. Angry-brows.” He stresses his point by furrowing his brow as much as he can and using two fingers at an angle to mimick thick eyebrows.

“That could change! I mean, Isaac used to hate you.”

“He still kind of does.”

“Well, you are kind of an asshole,” Scott chimes in, helpfully.

“I resent that! I’m a special brand of asshole, Scott. It’s endearing.”

“Tell her the third reason!”

“Thirdly..,” Stiles begins, turning his attention back to Kira, “His daughter has a crush on me.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, complicated. Welcome to my life.”

“That’s… not so bad… I mean, it’s just a petty school-girl crush, right?” Kira tries, smiling hopefully.

Stiles shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. If I started dating her dad, it could cause some kind of animosity towards him. And I’d be doing it _knowingly_. I can’t do that to her. _To them_.”

Kira’s smile falters into something a little sadder but filled with understanding and she reaches across the table to place her hand over Stiles’. “You really like him, huh? And you love his daughter, but most of all you respect their relationship before your own desires.”

“You’re a good guy, buddy. Things’ll work out for you if it’s meant to be,” Scott adds, beaming at his best friend and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Stiles smiles at them, placing his other hand over Kira’s and leaning his head to rest on Scott’s hand.

“Thanks guys, I hope so.”

\---

 **From Kira (9:47 PM):** _Lydia knows u know she knows_

 **From Kira (9:49 PM):** _Just letting u  know :)_

**To Kira (10:13 PM):** _Shit why godddd shes gonna make this a big deal_

**From Goddess Lydia (10:14 PM):** _It is a big deal._

 **To Kira (10:15 PM):** _???!!!!! WHAT THE FUCK_

 **To Kira (10:17 PM):** _SHE_ _JUST TEXTED ME HOW DOES SHE KNOW IS SHE PHSYCIC WHAAAT_

 **From Goddess Lydia (10:17 PM):** _You’re an idiot._

 **From Kira (10:18 PM):** _I probably should have mentioned shes sitting next 2 me lol_

 **From Kira (10:18 PM):** _Sorry! :))_

 **To Kira (10:18 PM):** _……_

 **To Kira (10:19 PM):** _gdi_

 **To Goddess Lydia (10:20 PM):** _NOT a big deal_

 **From Goddess Lydia (10:21 PM):** _You haven’t pined this long since me._

 **To Goddess Lydia (10:22 PM):** _HOW_ _DO U EVEN KNOW HOW LONG IVE BEEN PINING???_

 **From Goddess Lydia (10:24 PM):** _I noticed from the start, but confirmed it three months ago, I just haven’t brought it up. You’re so obvious when you pine. It’s pathetic. I’m surprised no one else really noticed._

 **From Goddess Lydia (10:26 PM):** _Actually, Danny may have noticed but I don’t think he cares as much._

 **To Goddess Lydia (10:27 PM):** _danny_ _loves me! and aww u care ;)_

 **From Goddess Lydia (10:28 PM):** _Also, the fact that you didn’t tell me about it yourself is unacceptable._

 **To Goddess Lydia (10:30 PM):** _:((((( dont kill me_

 **To Goddess Lydia (10:33 PM):** _…. i didnt rly tell anyone bc im not gonna go for it so yeah_

 **To Goddess Lydia (10:33 PM):** _so yeah nbd_

 **From Goddess Lydia (10:34 PM):** _And why not?_

 **From Goddess Lydia (10:35 PM):** _Actually, don’t tell me, your texting sucks. I’m off this weekend and you’re going to tell me all about it._

 **To Goddess Lydia (10:37 PM):** _i typ3 b3ut1fully_

 **To Goddess Lydia (10:37 PM):** _okay_

 **To Goddess Lydia (10:38 PM):** _s’long as u dont kill me xoxo_

 **From Goddess Lydia (10:47 PM):** _Saturday. 9PM. Killian’s Bar._

 **To Goddess Lydia (10:50 PM):** _:OOO_

 **To Goddess Lydia (10:50 PM):** _yes ma’am!!_

\---

It’s been nearly three months since he actually _spoke_ to Derek and lack of _actual communication_ with him has done absolutely nothing to diminish Stiles’ crush. Three months of putting all his efforts into evading the man around town and of pining from safe distances.

Scott has told him to “stop being a freak and say hi at least” but if there’s something Stiles is amazing at, it’s avoiding problems. He’s also fantastic at being aware of his surroundings and observing people, so all in all he thinks he’s actually putting his skills to great use.

That is, until his favorite cereal goes on sale and he’s crouching on the floor at the grocery store reaching for the last two boxes in the back of the very bottom shelf and he’s hit by a big solid force from behind.

The impact causes him to lose his balance and fall over on his hands and knees.  “What the fuck,” he manages through gritted teeth, ready to tear his assailant a new one because _who the fuck hits another guy with a shopping cart of all things_.

“Shit, I’m sorry! I- I didn’t see you there… I wasn’t looking… fuck, sorry!”

Stiles’ face pales and instantly flushes again as he slowly turns around to face the man that hit him. Standing behind a silver cart filled with groceries is Derek in all his glory, dressed in faded jeans and a dark blue Henley that stretches sinfully across his chest. _Goddamn_.

 This is the last situation he’d imagined bumping into Derek in, and it’s probably the most mortifying.

“Stiles?” Derek says, eyes widening comically and tips of his ears reddening.

They stare at each other for a few more seconds before Stiles realizes he’s still on the floor. He attempts a smile that probably comes out looking ridiculous and brings up a single hand to wiggle his fingers. “Uh, hi, uh, Derek,” he says.

He starts getting up at the same time that Derek moves from behind his cart to Stiles’ side, bending at the knees and helping him up by the arm, the contact sending a warmth through Stiles’ body that makes him bite his bottom lip.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Stiles,” the man continues, letting his hands fall once Stiles is upright. His gaze becomes almost as intense as the first time again. “I was looking up at the top shelf and really didn’t see you down there.”

“’S’okay,” Stiles replies, hoping he imagines his voice cracking. He clears his throat just in case. “I’m… I shouldn’t have been on the floor. Guess you didn’t think you’d, uh, _run_ _into me_ here.”

Derek stares at him in disbelief at the stupid joke and Stiles berates himself at his lack of verbal filter (as usual) until the older man’s features soften and he begins chuckling. “I guess you could say that,” he says, eyes bright and a good-humored smile playing on his lips. Stiles heart leaps at that. He really, really likes Derek’s smile. Like _, a lot_. “I’m still really sorry. You’re okay?”

He offers Derek a small smile of his own. “Yeah, I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“I’m glad. Uh, so how’s school?”

“Great, the kids are great.” Stiles lights up instantly because if there’s one thing Stiles loves it’s sharing stories about his kids, so he does. “Greenburg accidentally ran into Jackson on the playground yesterday, so that was an issue. Jackson fell and got scraped up and his parents almost wanted to sue because they’re over-protective, psycho lawyers, but we managed to smooth that over.”

“The Whittemores, right? Yeah, my sister knows them. She says they’re pretty… intense.”

“That’s putting it lightly, honestly. My dad’s the sheriff and I think he complains about them more than he does about actual criminals.”

Derek smirks and they fall into easy conversation for a few more minutes after that. Stiles leads the conversation for the most part, telling Derek more stories from work, but he gets enough from Derek that feels a little like he’s floating because this is so much more effortless than he ever imagined. It’s not uncomfortable, aside from the butterflies he feels in his stomach. He finds himself getting lost in Derek’s hazel eyes and the way his eyebrows move animatedly in accordance to his responses. He notices the crinkle in the outer corner of Derek’s eyes when he smiles and, _god_ , how much Stiles would love to see that smile every fucking day and kiss the hell out of those lips.

It’s easy, _so easy_ , and his heart aches when he remembers why he can’t fucking have this. Why he can’t, if given the chance, have a romantic relationship with the stunning man before him. That there’s a beautiful, little girl who adores her father and has a crush on her teacher and would be crushed if they began dating.

Never mind that Stiles doesn’t even know if Derek would even be interested. Sure, he’s much friendlier than when they first met and they’re having an easy conversation, but that doesn’t really mean anything. And even if it did, he just _can’t_. He cares about Erica too much and could never live with himself for hurting her. It doesn’t matter that she’s only a child and she’ll get over her crush eventually; he’s an adult, and he can sacrifice himself for her sake.

He finds that the more he talks to Derek, the more he likes him, and that’s just dangerous territory. His shoulders slump at that, knowing how hard on him it would be to get closer to Derek, even platonically. So he pulls out his phone while Derek is telling him about Erica’s recent love of Harry Potter, checks the time, and says, “Uh, sorry, I actually have to go. It was nice seeing you again, Derek!”

He watches Derek’s face fall a bit, but he smiles tightly and nods. “Yeah, me, too. And you, too, Stiles. Sorry again.”

Stiles gives him a forced smile and then turns around and leaves the store. He sighs as he settles into his Jeep, turning the key and starting the engine, and it isn’t until he’s almost home that he realizes he forgot his cereal.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it’s not clear, the texting happens not long before the grocery store incident, which happens before Stiles is meant to meet with Lydia. That’ll happen in another chapter. 
> 
> Have I mentioned that Teen Wolf is a life ruiner bc it is and it’s been a month and I’m still not over it and I’m forever in denial about what happened in the second to last episode /excuses self to cry/
> 
> Anyway, find me on [tumblr](http://boy--wolf.tumblr.com/)! Also [twitter](https://twitter.com/AlphaBootie) if ya want.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eurgh I’ve said this before but I’ll say it again: I AM THE WORST UPDATER. Sorry… I’ve been in a rut in general for a few months and also had graduation from college or whatever so… But, well, anyway, here it is, at least! :D
> 
> The idea for this entire fic actually stemmed from an idea for a V-Day fic that’s basically the premise of this chapter but unfortunately ideas kept coming and nothing got done by then! Oh well. This chapter also has a scene I’ve wanted to write since the start so I’m glad it’s finally here. :) Hope you like!
> 
> Unbeta’d as usual… I mean if anyone ever wants to beta or throw ideas at me or just talk Teen Wolf or whatever in general hit me up on Tumblr!

As soon as he hears Stiles’ car pull out of the store parking lot, Derek releases a shaky breath of frustration, running a hand briskly through his hair. Everything had been going so well, he thinks, but clearly he’d done something to make Stiles uncomfortable and feel the need to leave as quickly as he had.

He tries replaying the conversation in his mind as he goes back around to his grab his shopping cart. He pushes it mindlessly around the store, forgetting anything else he’s supposed to grab only breaking out of his stupor when he almost accidentally crashes into an old lady, who chides him for being “inconsiderate of the elderly and being handsome will only get you so far young man!” He apologizes, making his way to the front of the store to the nearest cash register.

He lets his thoughts wander back to Stiles as he puts the items he’d managed to procure before the mishap onto the conveyer belt. Had he accidentally made a rude comment? Did he fall into the same pattern of losing the other person’s interests because of his closed off personality? He thought he’d moved past that, at least when it came to Stiles.

Or worse yet, had he made his feelings obvious and Stiles just _doesn’t roll that way_? A sinking feeling settles into him at that thought. It could be an infinite amount of reasons but for some reason that seemed like the worst.

He’s startled out of his thoughts once again when the scrawny teenager behind the cash register clears his throat and stares at him expectantly.

“That’ll be $54.38, sir,” the kid says in a bored tone. Derek blinks a few times, allowing himself a moment to process what the kid was saying, and then pulls his wallet out of his back pocket.

“Right, sorry,” he mumbles, pulling his credit card out and swiping it through the machine. The kid doesn’t bother saying anything in response, already grabbing for the next customer’s items.

Derek takes hold of his cart, thanking the baggage boy (who at least seems more professional about customer service than his coworker and tells him to have a nice day) for bagging his things and heads to his car.

He makes it home in once piece thankfully, despite the many thoughts running through his mind. After unloading the groceries and putting them away he decides to take a nap in hopes of easing his mind before he has to go pick up Erica from Cora’s. His last thought before dozing off into a peaceful sleep is that he’s still going to try. He reminds himself that he can’t know for sure what put Stiles off, and for all he knows it has absolutely nothing to do with Derek. So, for now, he’ll continue trying to win Stiles over. Despite Stiles’ abrupt departure, their conversation _was_ great. It was easygoing and pleasant, something he hasn’t had with anyone outside of his family in ages, and he’s sure Stiles at least realized Derek doesn’t hate him or anything, regardless of his first impression. He’s willing to keep putting himself out there and give more of himself to Stiles, and hopefully, in the long run, Stiles will want to give right back. 

\---

“Valentine’s Day,” Cora states blandly as soon as she opens the door for him.

Derek stares at her. “What.”

Cora rolls her eyes, in that special Hale brand of way. “ _Valentine’s_ Day.”

“Yeah, I got that… but… what? I’m beginning to think you’ve lost the ability to greet people properly.”

Cora stares at him with as much judgment as she can muster. “Why are you even my brother?” she says as she turns away back into her apartment without further explanation, leaving the door open for Derek to come in.

He follows her back into the living room where Erica is sitting on her knees at the coffee table. She hasn’t noticed him come in yet, completely engrossed in her work, so he takes advantage and watches her fondly as she colors, hunched over about a dozen sheets of white paper. There are crayons and markers strewn across the table, mostly purples, reds, and pinks. Her hair is done up in a lovely fish braid, a light blue ribbon running through it. He’s eternally grateful for having sisters with enough dexterity and patience to do Erica’s hair because he’s _tried,_ and just, no _._ He smiles down at his daughter, taking in the healthy, rosey cheeks.

Erica had been no more than a year old when she’d come down with a high fever and cried and cried until Derek, unable to do anything for her, cried right along with her, unsure and feeling completely lost and alone. He couldn’t reach anyone, frantically redialing each of his sisters over and over until he finally willed himself to get them in his car and rush to the hospital. They’d made it through it, but it had been the single most frightening experience of his life. Erica gets sick often… nothing fatal, but it’s never easy seeing your child cry because of recurring fevers or the stomach flu so Derek makes sure to appreciate the days when Erica is completely healthy and lively.

“What’re you drawing, sweetheart?” he says, finally. Erica startles and looks up, smile widening, adorable tooth gaps on full display.

“Daddy! I’m drawing Valentines!”

“Is that so?” he says as he kneels down beside her.

“Yes! ‘S almost Valentine’s Day and Mr. S says we’re gonna have a party Friday and he said that if we can we should bring cards for everyone so no one feels bad, but that usually people make super _special_ cards for their special people. Aunt Cora already bought me Batman cards for the whole class so now I’m making the special ones.”

Derek’s heart thumps in his chest at the mention of Stiles. He coughs and brings up a hand to scratch at his stubble. “I see. And who are you making these super special cards for?”

Erica grins, throwing her hands out in flourish to gesture at the entirety of her work. “ _Well,_ I’m making one for you, of course. Aunt Laura and Aunt Cora. Little Vernon. Heather. Gram and gramps and Uncle Peter, too! But you gotta mail those. Umm… Oh, and Mr. S!”

Derek pauses, hand mid-scratch, realization slowly setting in. _Valentine’s Day_. This is what Cora was trying to insinuate earlier by the door. He had to do something for Stiles for Valentine’s Day. Maybe… maybe even ask him out. It was the perfect kind of socially constructed opportunity for one to take advantage of to ask someone out.

“Cora!”

Cora pops in then, eyebrows high and mouth twisted in a smug smirk. “ _Now_ you got it, ey, Der?”

“What do I do?”

Cora rolls her eyes. “Ask him out, you big dumb.”

“No! I mean… yes, maybe? I don’t know. But how? I’m… I don’t even know if he’d be interested? What if he already has plans?”

“So _what_? You’re just going to keep wasting more and more time hung up on the guy, using your kid as a shield?”

“Cora!” Derek says, eyes shifting quickly to Erica, who’s back to coloring and doesn’t seem to mind.

“All I’m saying is that sometimes… Sometimes you just have to put yourself out there. You’ll never know until you try.”

“That’s so cliché.”

“Shut up, you know I’m right. I mean… It’s been enough time that you should at least let the guy know you’re interested in a romantic sense. And, hey, maybe that alone will pique his interest. Dude would be nuts not to be even a little interested, you’re pretty good looking, and I’m only saying that because people say we look similar so saying otherwise would be insulting to beautiful self.”

It’s Derek’s turn to roll his eyes, sending his sister a long-suffering look until he gives her one of resignation.

“Alright… So what do I do?”

\---

Derek shifts around restlessly on the couch, laptop on his lap and work long forgotten. He glances up at the clock for the umpteenth time since he dropped Erica off at school. It’s the Friday before Valentine’s Day , which is on Sunday, so Erica has her Valentine’s Day party today.  He’d sent her off with a box of cupcakes for the potluck as well as his gift for Stiles.

He groans, thinking about the white, stuffed bear with its red heart nose and red ribbon tied around its neck. It is literally _the_ most cliché thing ever (thanks a lot Cora) and Derek is just about dying of embarrassment just at the thought of Stiles getting it. He’d attached a note to the bear—a cheesy poem asking him out—and decided to head to Stiles’ classroom once school let out to ask him formerly in person.

He taps his fingers on his knees, glancing up at the clock one last time before he gives in and gets up to grab his keys and head out. It’s about 9:45 and Erica’s recess is at 10:15. Erica had told him that Fridays were Stiles’ turn for playground duty, so Cora had told her to give him the gift then. He pulls out of the driveway, nerves buzzing beneath his skin as he drives to Beacon Hills Elementary.

He drives past the school entrance where he’d normally go to drop off and pick Erica up, and continues down until the end of the block and turns at the corner, driving along the fence surrounding the school and parking on the side of it. He has a clear view of the school building and the playground from across the field. He hears the bell ring and sees the students start trickling out from the different classrooms. He squints, trying to see if he can make out Erica among the throng of students leaving Stiles’ classroom.

Derek unbuckles his seatbelt, stepping out of the vehicle and makes his way to the fence, pressing his face against it and willing his eyes to see as far as they physically can. He scans the crowd of kids, grateful that most of them have dissipated and chosen activities away from the blacktop where the teachers on duty stay. He finally spots the lavender overalls and familiar blonde curls bouncing around as his daughter skips up to who he makes out to be Stiles. Derek feels himself start to tremble, nerves coming back full force until he has to sink down into a squat, eyes still trained on his daughter and object of his affections, who greets Erica with a bright smile and enthusiasm to match hers.

He’s watching the exchange with anticipation, not hearing when another car approaches and parks behind his. Erica is handing Stiles the gift when someone says, “What you watching there?”

Derek is still fully engrossed in the exchange across the field and mindlessly replies, “The man I want to marry.”

There’s a stretch of silence during which Stiles takes the gift from Erica and she runs off and the slow realization that he isn’t alone dawns on him. The person who had spoken coughs, clearing his throat and Derek turns to look up at the man slowly, dread and embarrassment making their way into the pit of his stomach.

The officer—or rather the _sheriff_ , as the star on his uniform suggests—is looking out across the field where Derek had been staring not long ago.  He turns back to Derek, a slightly amused expression on his face, kind eyes twinkling in a knowing way.

“That guy, right there?” the Sheriff says, pointing towards Stiles with his thumb. He’s really the only man in the general vicinity of where he’s pointing so it’s safe to say he means Stiles.

“Uh…”

“Son, as long as it’s not kids you’re watching, we’re good here.”

Derek’s eyes widen, looking quickly at the playground then right back to the Sheriff. “Of course not!” he sputters, flushing, “My daughter is over there, too. I was just checking on her.”

The Sheriff nods. “Like I said, we’re good here. Just don’t spend too much time lurking around elementary schools or the housewives will call me to arrest you.”

Derek stands, cheeks flushed, and nods seriously at the other man. “Of course, sir, I’m sorry.”

“Mmhmm,” the policeman responds, already moving back around to the driver’s side of his police cruiser. He opens the door and is halfway in before he turns back to Derek and says, “By the way, tell Stiles to bring you down for dinner sometime. All things considered.” And with that, he gets into the cruiser and drives away, leaving Derek dumbstruck.

Which is when he remembers Stiles’ words at the grocery store: _My dad’s the sheriff_. And, well, _fuck_. Of all the ways to meet the father of the man he was trying to woo… He doesn’t have a chance to freak out long because just then the bell rings, signaling the end of recess and breaking Derek from his thoughts. Giving one last glance towards the school, he finally gets back in his car and drives back home, hoping, with all his heart, that Stiles accepts his proposal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk if this counts as creeper Derek but he kinda is.  
> Erica’s elementary school is based on my own in socal. [Here’ s the only picture I could find](http://i.imgur.com/2J9QMpZ.jpg) that’s as close to the view Derek would have from where he’s at, except he would be further away. Hope that kinda helps with visualizing since I’m not sure I wrote it clearly. 
> 
> I used to get sick a lot as a kid with flus and whatnot so I went with that rather than epilepsy (bc I wouldn’t be able to write it properly and I don’t want it being something too serious)
> 
> As always kudos and comments are great motivators! * winks dramatically*


End file.
